Tag Archives: apparel

Richard Brandt is one fired-up, driven dude. Talking to him about his new venture, I could hardly get a word in edgewise. The former co-founder of Izola recently teamed-up with Creative Director Marnin Schwartz to launch their Brooklyn born brand Iron & Glory. As Richie tells it, the inspiration behind Iron & Glory is deeply rooted in their love of moto-culture, craft, & tradition. Both his grandfathers rode motorcycles, and it’s been a family thing ever since. In fact, a year or two ago Richie’s dad surprised the hell outta him by pulling out a few old black & white photos of Richie’s mom that he’d never seen before. Back in 1967 the young couple were on the road, and Richie’s dad spotted this motley crew of bikers on the side of the road and immediately pulled over. Somehow he talked these guys into an impromptu photo shoot, much to his wife’s surprise. That steely look in her eyes… it’s equal parts fear and loathing.

Circa 1939, Ola, Idaho — Farmers turned Loggers with a load ready to go to their self-help cooperative sawmill, started with a Farm Security Administration loan.

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From the desk of Contributing Editor, Eli M. Getson–

The thing about great American design is that, for the most part, function is the driving element. It’s this functionality that’s ultimately the true spirit of what MADE IN AMERICA stands for. It ain’t about being pretty; it’s about being tough and working the way it’s supposed to. A lot of it harkens back to a time when Americans toiled long and hard outside, with their hands, and demanded gear that could hold up to their hard-scrabble lives, and unforgiving the elements. The gear was simple, honest, and true. You got your money’s worth.

Our forebears would probably be more than slightly amused by the fact that many of today’s American workwear brand purists are not loggers, miners, and metal workers– however, the quality, core values, and classic designs behind these brands still resonate deeply within us. I believe down inside, most of us value the dignity of hard work, quality goods, and simpler times. There’s something honest and pure that’s sadly missing in the daily gadget grind of our increasingly disposable lives. It’s like some of us have a primal itch that we just can’t scratch– so we gird our loins with garb from days gone by, to pay tribute to a life and times we’ll never know, but long for so badly.

Recently I had the honor of sitting down with Clark Perkins, brand manager for legendaryChippewa Boots. Full disclosure– I am not exactly Charlie Rose, I am a cultural observer and men’s wear guy who gets excited about a lot of different things, especially product I use and love. I traffic in hyperbole, but in this case everything I pen about Chippewa boots is 100% true! Ok, maybe a little opinion is thrown in there, but when I interview brand managers, merchants, and design folks I admire, I melt into the form of a 13 year old girl watching Twilight than an objective observer, but what the hell. When you’re talking about ‘best in class’ products, respect is due.

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Circa 1930s– Loggers (or Lumberjacks) working every muscle in their body, and living off the land.

There’s been a big debate lately amongst myself and some colleagues concerning pleats. Now, I’ll be honest– I haven’t worn a pleated trouser in who knows how long. And it’s not like I ever did by choice, but that’s how most suits came for a long time. And not just suits either– I remember when Polo sold only one basic khaki (chino, whatever… let’s not go there) and it was called the Pleated Jean– withdouble forward pleats (the only acceptable pleat treatment in my mind). Once in awhile you’d see the America Pant– their flat front at the time. Anyone else relate, or am I dating myself?

Anyway, the debate is over the relevance of men’s pleated trousers. Again, I could live largely without pleats altogether. But, there are certain specific occasions when a snotty, grey flannel chalk-stripe suit with a peak lapel and deep double forward pleats, with a rise up to your belly button feels, well– proper. I guess it’s more nostalgic than relevant, but it’s badass just the same. Reverse pleats? Not so much. But that’s just how I roll. The forward is more Anglo, the reverse feels more Euro. Now the reverse has been adopted as the “every guy” pleat– meaning it’s the more commercial, and some say more flattering pleat. It lays flatter, blah, blah, blah.

Is the flat front the new absolute? Will we ever see a large return to the pleated trouser again? Are pleats relevant at all? I feel likes it’s easier to get a guy who’s been wearing pleats into flat-fronts, but nearly impossible to get a flat-front guy into pleats. I’d like your feedback. Seriously. And if you want to give a little feedback on your background to back it up, all the better.

The beautiful weather today has me itching for a friendly round of golf (and refreshments) with a buddy– if only my game was good enough to keep me from embarrassing myself out there. I’ve got a crazy “baseball swing” for a drive– my short game is a little better, but not much.

I wonder (like the rest of us, surely) how Tiger Woods’ career would fare if he had a true master rival? Don’t get me wrong– Tiger is incredible, but he hasn’t really been tested against talent anywhere equal to his own. Not at all like the days of the Nicklaus/Palmer rivalry.

It was also a time when the sport had a lot more style and flair– the shirts fit actually fit like a shirt should, and smoking a butt on the course was no big deal. Arnold Palmer was easily the coolest cat on the green. His good looks and easy, devilish grin (matched with his skills) made him the one to watch.

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Arnold Palmer and Jack Nicklaus check their driver clubs before teeing off for a tie breaking playoff in the 1962 US Open-- Oakmont Country Club, Pennsylvania.

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Coming into the 1962 U.S. Open at Oakmont, there was no doubt which player was the fan favorite. Arnold Palmer had won his third Masters the previous April and had notched 30 tournament titles over the previous seven years. In 1953, he was a mere 23-year-old amateur when he competed at Oakmont, but now he was the charismatic, go-for-broke swashbuckler. Palmer’s connection to the masses was remarkable. And the Open being played in his backyard created even more appeal. He was a western Pennsylvania native and Oakmont was this region’s signature championship layout.

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Squinty-eyed Palmer had style, charm, looks and skill. Jack Nicklaus more than made up for his personality and presentation deficits with an amazing game and heart that became legendary, and is still unmatched to this day.

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Jack Nicklaus was the anti-Palmer. Some people referred to him as “Fat Jack” because of the 22-year-old’s physique. But he arrived at his first Open as a professional with plenty of fire. The former Ohio State University All-American had won the 1959 and ’61 U.S. Amateur titles, and in between, he nearly took the 1960 U.S. Open, falling two strokes short of Palmer – although as play began at the ’62 Open Nicklaus was still searching for his first victory as a pro.

If you’re a Jim Collins’ fan, maybe you got the “built to last” reference. He’s featured in the April 2009 issue of Inc. magazine, and as always, has some great insights. Like his observation that about every 20-30 years there is a major development in the evolution of business that we become aware of only in retrospect.

Here’s his major observations on the last 100 years or so–

Around the turn of the last century, business corporations emerge as the building block of modern society. Sounds obvious enough, right? Yes– but how many people living in that moment recognized the revolution that was unfolding right in front of them?

From the 1920s to ’40s, management emerged as the fundamental function and discipline in society. We were becoming a society in which management would be one of the central, important professions– like practicing medicine or law.

After WWII comes another big development: work can be broken down into segments and reassembled in ways dramatically increasing both performance and humanity.

During the 1980s, the idea of the entrepreneur shifts from “those crazy, creative people” to a profession, as people start to realize that it’s not about temperament or personality, but about action. We embrace the idea that entrepreneurship is actually a systematic, replicable process.

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By this point you’re no doubt wondering– what does any of this have to do with Patagonia, you nerd?

There are a lot of us caught in the grips of the ever-worsening recession global depression– those of us in apparel and retail are definitely feeling it hard. I’m holding out hope that come April the economy will start to “Spring” back with new optimism. But now I’m hearing of more imminent lay-offs and cutbacks coming down the pipeline. It might have you feeling imprisoned in a way you’ve never felt before.

A good friend shared a story with me yesterday– his brother was giving a talk and the economy came up (2.8 trillion dollar deficit, btw). In the audience was a guy formerly of the Securities and Exchange Commission. When asked where he would put his money, his answer was “Gold and a shotgun.” Nice.

But there is something you can do if you find yourself laid-off and seemingly without prospects. In a market where luxury is currently a dirty word, we do have the luxury of time, energy, experience and relationships. Us little guys can turn on a dime, and create new models and paradigms faster than the large corporations that are currently focusing on how to stop the bleeding. New thinking, energy, excitement and products will go a long way towards dragging us out of this, and then hopefully the banks will start to follow in time. The economic turnaround will only start by us pulling ourselves out of our mental rut first.

Because my mind works in strange ways, this all got me thinking about economic life in an actual prison. It’s important that we keep our circumstances in perspective– it can always be worse…

This is exactly why I stopped buying American men’s fashion magazines. The content is so lean in terms of what is actually meaningful, and so full of off-topic pandering fluff pieces– I can mine any nuggets that may be there in about five minutes or less at the magazine rack, and save my four bucks for something useful. Case in point–

The magazine:GQ March 2009.

The title: The 10 Most Stylish Men in America, Starring Justin Timberlake.

My reaction: “You can not be serious. Hell, he’s not even a man, let alone stylish.”

GQ— short for Gentlemen’s Quarterly, and once the gold standard for men’s style is now GQ— Getting Questionable. Yeah, your credibility takes a hit in my book when you’re consistently extolling the virtues of teeny-boppers and hip-hoppers. I think of those guys as trend-seeking, fashion-wagon opportunists, not icons of style. Weren’t they wearing white belts not too long ago? Give them their props somewhere else– not in GQ. I used to laugh at what rags FHM and Maxim were, but now everyone is starting to migrate to the shallow end of the style gene pool.

I’m still not getting what I want from Brooks Brothers, and I’m starting to wonder if I ever will. Bring back the pure, unapologetic, timeless icons of American sportswear & clothing– make it fresh, get the fit right, and roll it out. It still feels too much like a European (Italian) interpreting classic American style. It has a very continental feel in these photos from WWD.

In early December 1999, the mood in the Bill Blass showroom at 550 Seventh Avenue was as gray as the film of dust on a potted plant that sat in the corner and always seemed to be dying.

Blass, arguably the most famous of all the American designers, had shown his farewell collection that September and sold the company a few weeks later. He had been ill for some time, living with throat cancer for years — he was then 77 — and he didn’t seem much inclined to argue with the new owners about who would fill his oversize shoes. They wanted a name. So the future of Blass’s longtime assistants was far from certain. Laura Montalban, one of two top designers, left to work for Oscar de la Renta; Blass called the other, Craig Natiello, who had been with him for a decade, into his office.

“You’re not going to like the people who bought the company,” Blass said. He made a phone call, then told Mr. Natiello, who recalled the conversation in a recent interview, that there was a job waiting for him at Halston. “Here is your out. Do you want it?”

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That, Ladies and Gentlemen, is class. Keep a stiff upper lip, tell it straight, and repay loyalty with loyalty. This kind of character is an increasing rarity, unfortunately. Kudos, Mr. Blass.